Thursday, December 16, 2010


Only recently have I been exposed to my family's history. Events and perspectives that I would've never been able to comprehend until now. Still, at this very moment I struggle to take in what paths had to have been taken for me to be who I am and where I am today.

(I just had a seizure, I'm pretty sure the magnate worked to lessen the outcome. My whole right side went numb again.)

My Dad is a very touchy subject for me. I know he has been through a lot in his lifetime... The Vietnam War and helicopter crash, Beloit Police Department, terrible car accident for which he was read his "last rights," in the hospital but somehow recovered. He then got a new job and traveled around the world, missing out on parts of his children's childhood, something I know he thinks about. He has also been battling Diabetes for the last five years. He's a weathered man, a very strong man, a solid rock for which I respect down to the deepest depths.

He visited on Tuesday to take me out to lunch. We had good conversation while eating... typical Father/Son types of subjects. When we got back to my office I started asking him about how the family was doing... asking about his brothers, sister, my cousins. I talked about the war museum that Sara and I visited and fished for a little insight from him on the subject. After he left I felt worn down and generally upset. Like I said, my Dad is a touchy subject. To talk to him one on one, without the rest of the family around is a rare occasion and for some reason (that I don't understand) I feel like I'm not handling strife the way he's handled it in his turbulent life.

He's been around the world, seen bullets fly and has been mangled badly in his life, but he has a genuine smile every time I see him. He always tells me that the seizures are temporary and this experience will make me stronger... his tone is like that of a Father talking to his Son... empathetic and concerned. I don't want to let him down. I'm a Son who wants to be just like his Dad... strong, capable, independent and loving.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010


I'm going to jinx myself by writing this post but I've been feeling ok as of late. No new seizures to report. My voice is still very raspy every 11 seconds for 7 seconds, I'm still getting used to it. By the end of the day frustration piles up because the vocal chords are getting tired and my voice gets more and more hoarse.

On the personal side of things, there's no news to report. I've written it all before and I'm tired of reiterating.

I've been waking up with really good dreams for the last couple weeks. A lot of detail and I remember them very vividly when I wake up. The problem is waking up. I say to myself, as I start to blink my eyes for the first couple times in the morning that I wish I could never wake up from dreams. They've been positive and engaging, almost adventurous. I see old friends, make new ones and discover new places. I'm strong, confident and curious. Not once during these dreams did I think about my body, been self-conscious about my voice or my inabilities.

It's astounding. The same brain that's been holding me down the last couple years is the same brain that allows me to travel beyond all imagination when I'm asleep. The same brain that rives me with pain during a seizure is the same one that comforts me and makes me smile while my eyes are closed. The same brain that whispers thoughts of harming myself during the day is the same brain that fills me full of life in the night.